


Marry Me!

by feministfangirl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feministfangirl/pseuds/feministfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Chekov was proposed to, and one time he did the proposing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry Me!

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Выходи за меня!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002772) by [halfdeadScorpio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdeadScorpio/pseuds/halfdeadScorpio)



> Originally written for the first round of the Star Trek Ship Wars in 2010. I believe it was for a cross-ship party or something like that.
> 
> I made up this science just like they did on the show: by putting some technical sounding words next to some other technical sounding words. Don’t judge me. I love you.

**One**

It was a simple matter, really. Scotty could have figured it out himself if he hadn’t been working for 47 hours straight already. But Chekov had just been relieved from the bridge and was buzzing with adrenaline, and no matter how tired his eyes were from maneuvering through the battle, fresh eyes were a big help to any complex situation.

“I canne fix this trans-conduit leak without cutting off all auxiliary power and sending a man in on a suicide mission!” cried Scotty, clutching at his hair like it was trying to escape the top of his head. He paced in front of the glowing tubes, the blue-white light making him look submerged in water.

“Why do you not just feed power vertically through the hydrostatic equilibrium?” Scotty stopped pacing and stared at Chekov. Chekov wasn’t sure if he was quite sane still, and so continued. “It will not effect the horizontal conduits at all, and will not flood whoever is in there with radiation until we have—“

“—Flipped the hydrostatic equilibrium, Chekov, lad, you are BRILLIANT!” Scotty swept him up in a hug so sudden that the Ensign didn’t have time to protest, simply allowed himself to be lifted off the ground and spun. “Marry me, you Russian genius!” Chekov flushed pink as Scotty dropped him and rushed to follow his suggestion. The proposal caught him off guard, but Scotty had already moved away, forgotten about his words. 

Later, Chekov wondered which of them would be the bride.

****

**Two**

The Captain and Sulu had a long-standing rivalry around hand-to-hand combat. Since the incident on the Romulan drill, where Kirk maintained that he had been holding his own out there before Sulu came and spoiled the fun. Of course, this resulted in combat sessions that usually ended with McCoy stopping them before one of them bled out all over the gym facilities.

But McCoy was away doing a consult for a nearby Medical Colony, and Sulu and Kirk had decided, once and for all, to settle this. Winner would be crowned King of the Alpha Shift, with a crown and everything.

Half the off-duty crew was in the main area of the gym, creating an oblong in the middle of the room. On one side, Kirk stood, Spock standing just behind him. Chekov was standing behind Sulu, who did a few short stretches and took the fencing sword Chekov held out for him. It went this way every time: Sulu would start with a sword and Kirk without, and they’d use their strengths to beat each other down.

“Good luck,” said Chekov as Sulu turned back to face Kirk. “The Captain’s weak spot is where his neck meets his shoulder on the left side.” Before Sulu could respond, Kirk was advancing, and their admirers were yelling. Somewhere off to the side, Scotty was still taking bets, officers bidding with such commodities as data transfer space, replicator usage, and shore leave rosters.

The fight was the quickest and dirtiest they’d ever fought. Both men were absolutely brutal, coming down to the lowest tricks. But when Sulu managed to hold Kirk’s arms and pinch _hard_ at the point where his neck met his shoulder, the Captain sunk to his knees and admitted defeat. 

“King of the Alpha Shift!” proclaimed Sulu, lifting his hands in the air in triumph. Chekov retrieved the crown and placed it on top of Sulu’s messy, sweaty hair. Sulu wrapped his arms around Chekov in a hug, and then held him at arm’s length.

“Chekov, marry me.” Chekov’s eyes widened, and his face went hot. He felt like everyone was watching them, even though they were probably busy fighting over winnings with Scotty.

“What?” Chekov managed to stutter.

“If you hadn’t told me his weakness, man, I would _not_ have won. I owe you, big time!” And then Sulu was off to celebrate his win with the Captain’s special stash of beer.

Later, Chekov wondered what kind of flowers Sulu would have chosen.

****

**Three**

Chekov found McCoy pouring over a PADD with intensity he usually only directed at surgery. Chekov was half frightened to disturb him, but also quite curious. He decided to be brave.

“Good Evening, Doctor,” he said, grinning down at him. McCoy gave him a short nod in response, and went back to the information he was scrolling through. “Do you mind if I sit?” Chekov asked. McCoy shrugged. Chekov took this to be a yes, and sat. “Why so serious, Doctor?”

“I’m trying to buy my daughter a present,” he muttered, his brow creasing further. 

“Ah, it is her birthday? How old is she?”

“Seven,” said McCoy shortly, pressing his lips together tightly as soon as the word was out.

“It must be hard not to see her,” said Chekov, frowning slightly. 

“Yeah,” McCoy managed, his voice lower and closer to a growl than usual.

“What are you going to get her?”

“I don’t know, dammit, if I did I wouldn’t be concentrating so damn hard!” He slammed the PADD down in frustration and put his hands over his eyes, tilting back in his seat. Chekov could see that the PADD was filled with pictures of notes scrawled in crayon by chubby child fingers. 

“She writes you real letters?” Chekov said, leaning forward to see more of the note pulled up on the screen.

“Yeah,” mumbled McCoy from underneath his hands. “She likes paper.”

“…Are you going to get her some?”

“Some what?”

“Paper. Pencils. Paint.” Chekov swiped his finger along the screen to advance to the next photo. “Maybe a sketchbook? She does much drawing. Such a romantic, still using paper.” Chekov glanced up to see McCoy staring at him with his mouth slightly ajar. 

“Marry me,” McCoy said, and then leaned across the table, seized Chekov’s face in his hands and kissed the young man on the forehead. “Kid, you have no idea how helpful you are!” And then he was gone, presumably off to find a supplier of blank paper books.

Later, Chekov wondered where they would have had the ceremony.

****

**+1**

One night, Chekov finds himself drinking heavily in Scotty’s quarters. He’s halfway through a bottle of _real Russian Vodka_ , matching McCoy’s consumption of bourbon glass for glass. Of course, he is smaller and has not spent as many years drinking, and so is drunk _much_ faster than many of the others there. This means his card game has gone to shit.

He slams down his last hand in Poker and pulls the bottle of Vodka close against his chest.

“Let me take that,” says McCoy, reaching for it, but Chekov stays his hand.

“No,” slurs the young Russian, “The Vodka, she is the only one who really loves me!” He cuddled the bottle a little closer against his chest. “You proposed to me once, Doctor,” Chekov adds quickly. Sulu looks at McCoy with the murderous expression of a protective friend, and McCoy gives him is own death glare.

“Kid, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You did!” says Chekov, loudly enough to distract Scotty and Kirk. “And you too, Sulu. And Scotty. But no one even helped me set a date!” The three accused men looked at each other, but didn’t say anything. “And so,” continued Chekov, “I will marry this Vodka and be forever happy. You will all be welcome to the ceremony.” Chekov stood to flounce away, but quickly bumped into a small couch and tumbled onto it, bottle still in hand. And there he passed out, bottle slowly leaking vodka onto the couch.

“So you all proposed to Chekov?” asked Kirk, grinning his mischievous grin at them all. 

“I hadn’t slept in days—“

“I didn’t _mean_ — “

“It was just an expression—“

“I don’t blame you!” said Kirk, raising a hand to silence their protests. “I would have done the exact same thing.”


End file.
